Chapter 2

"Ethan! Hi!" I chirped, my voice a higher pitch than normal.

"Hey, Gabby. Listen, I was just talking to my parents," he started, his tone smooth and confident.

I let him go through his whole manipulative speech. The one about his parents dying to meet me, about the "scary" storm coming, about how perfect it would be to have a "family vacation" at my cabin.

I played my part perfectly.

"Oh my god, Ethan, that's a wonderful idea! I'd love to finally meet them!"

"Great," he said, and I could hear the smug satisfaction in his voice. He thought I was so easy. "They're really traditional, so you'll need to impress them. We'll head up in about nine days, right before the storm hits. Make sure the place is ready for us."

"Of course! I'll get everything perfect for them!" I promised.

"Good girl," he said, the casual condescension making my hand grip the phone tighter. "See you then."

He hung up.

I stood in the silence of my kitchen for a full minute. Then I lowered the phone and calmly deleted his contact, his photos, and our entire message history.

I didn't run. I didn't call my parents. I didn't have a breakdown.

I started to prepare.

My first stop was online. I used my Amex Black Card, the one with no limit, and went on a spree. I hired an emergency contractor, the kind that specializes in discreet jobs for the ultra-wealthy. I paid a 200% premium for a rush job to be completed in five days.

Their task: fortify the basement.

The basement was already a reinforced concrete bunker, but I wanted more. I had them install a new, state-of-the-art ventilation system with independent power. They were to build a false wall in the back of the walk-in pantry, concealing a new, soundproofed, vault-like door.

Inside, I had them install a kitchenette, a bathroom with a high-end incinerating toilet, and hookups for my entertainment systems.

Next, the cameras. Tiny, hidden cameras in every single room of the main cabin. The living room, the kitchen, the bedrooms, the hallways. All of them feeding to a multi-screen monitor that would be installed in my new basement sanctuary.

While the contractors worked, I went on the biggest shopping trip of my life. I hit Costco, Whole Foods, and a specialty survivalist store.

At Costco, I filled three massive carts. Cases of bottled water, canned goods, giant bags of rice and beans, freeze-dried meals. The cashier gave me a weird look.

"Big party?" she asked.

"Pre-winter retreat for my charity group," I said with a bright, innocent smile. "We like to be prepared."

At Whole Foods, I bought the good stuff. Gourmet frozen meals, expensive cheeses, high-end coffee, cases of wine, and several large, beautiful cuts of steak. This was for me.

Finally, at the survivalist store, I bought propane tanks, medical kits, water purifiers, thermal blankets, and heavy-duty batteries.

As I loaded the last of the supplies into my Range Rover, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Molly.

"Hey! Just heard from Ethan that you guys are having a little family getaway at the cabin! So jealous! You have to tell me how it goes with his parents!!!"

The sheer audacity of it was breathtaking.

I typed back a reply. "I will! So excited! Wish you could be there!"

I added three smiley-face emojis, then blocked her number.

The last piece of my plan was the muscle. I found a private security firm online and requested their biggest, most intimidating-looking operative for a one-day job. I specified ex-military, if possible.

They sent me a man named Marcus. He was six-foot-five, built like a refrigerator, and had a face that looked like it had been used to stop a gravel truck. He was perfect.

I met him in a nearby town and gave him his instructions. He was to pose as the "property caretaker." He was not to speak unless spoken to. His only job was to intervene if, and only if, Ethan tried to put his hands on me.

On the ninth day, with my basement sanctuary complete and fully stocked, I moved all my comfortable furniture, my personal belongings, my clothes, and my entertainment systems downstairs. The main cabin was now staged like a sterile, high-end rental property. Impersonal. Cold.

Everything was ready. The storm was rolling in. And I was waiting.